Whuppity Stoorie

Once upon a time in a small Scottish village nestled between green hills and whispering woods, there lived a kind woman named Effie.

Effie didn’t have much—just a cosy cottage, her giggling baby boy and a large,friendly sow named Bonnie. Her husband had gone to the fair many moons ago and never came back. No letters, no word—just gone. Nevertheless, with her heart heavy, Effie kept going, pouring all her love into her baby and her beloved pig.

Then one morning, on a blustery day, Bonnie the sow was acting strangely. She was meant to farrow soon—that means she was going to have piglets! Effie had been counting on a big litter to help feed her little family through the winter. However, when she got to the pen, her heart sank. Bonnie was lying in the straw, barely moving. Her snout twitched, her eyes looked dull, and it was clear—she was very, very ill. Without hesitation, Effie knelt beside her, tears running down her cheeks.

“Oh, Bonnie, not you too,” she whispered. “What will we do without you?”

As the wind rattled the trees and swirled leaves around her feet, a strange hush fell over the yard. Suddenly, from behind the shed, came a rustle… a shimmer… and a figure appeared. She wasn’t like anyone Effie had ever seen.

The woman’s hair was tangled with twigs, her dress shimmered like gossamer spider silk, and she had eyes that twinkled like dewdrops at dawn. She looked both ancient and ageless.

Instinctively, Effie stepped back, clutching her baby to her chest.

“Who… who are you?”

The strange woman grinned.

“A helper, if you like. I can save your pig. But remember, I never work for free.”

Effie blinked away her tears.

“What would you want in return?”

The woman’s smile grew wider and sharper.

“Anything I like.”

Effie hesitated. Her heart pounded. Still, she looked down at her baby’s face and then at poor Bonnie.

“Alright,” she whispered. “Anything.”

The fairy woman didn’t waste a second. She dropped to her knees beside Bonnie and muttered words Effie didn’t understand—strange and humming like the wind through stones. She tossed a pinch of sparkling dust over the pig, who gave a mighty snort and sat up, eyes bright and ears twitching. Effie gasped. Bonnie was cured! Even so, her joy vanished as the fairy woman stood and reached out her hand.

“I’ll take the child,” she said simply.

Effie staggered back.

“No! Not my baby!”

The fairy’s eyes flashed.

“You promised. Anything.”

Effie dropped to her knees.

“Please! Take the sow instead. Take me!”

The fairy scoffed.

“What would I want with a clumsy old woman like you? Or a pig? No. The child is fresh and full of life.

Nevertheless…”—her lips curled—“…there are rules, even for me.”

She turned and began to vanish into the breeze, yet, her voice hung in the air.

“Under fairy law, I must wait three days. On the third day, if you can tell me my name, I must leave the child behind.”

And with a whirl of wind and a flick of her shawl, she was gone.

That night, Effie barely slept. She rocked her baby close, her heart aching. What kind of name could that fairy have? Was it something common like Mary or something strange like Pebble-Moon?

The next morning, the day came and went. Effie searched every corner of the village, asking old women, wise men, anyone who might know fairy secrets. Sadly, no one did.

On the second day, desperate and weary, she wandered deep into the woods. She walked and walked until she reached a place she’d never seen before—a crumbling old quarry covered in ivy and moss.

She was about to turn back when suddenly she heard something. A high, reedy voice, carried on the wind. Effie crouched behind a stone and peeked through the leaves.

There, spinning thread from golden flax, danced the fairy woman. She twirled and sang:

“Little does she know, little does she see,
My name is Whuppity Stoorie—hee hee hee!
She’ll never guess it, not today or tomorrow,
And then her boy shall be mine to borrow!”

Effie gasped.

At last! Whuppity Stoorie! That was it!

She slipped away without a sound and hurried home, her heart leaping with hope.

On the third day the dawn was grey and cold. Mist curled along the ground, and even the birds seemed to stay quiet.

Effie stood in her yard, clutching her baby, as the fairy appeared in a swirl of smoke and sparkles.

“Well,” said the fairy. “Have you guessed my name, or shall I take what’s mine?”

Effie fell to her knees.

“Please, take the sow. She’s strong again and worth more than me. Or take me—I beg you!”

The fairy cackled.

“You? You’re hardly fit to tie my shoes!”

Effie looked up with a twinkle in her eye.

“No,” she said softly, “but I might be good enough to tie Whuppity Stoorie’s.”

The fairy froze. Her mouth fell open. Her spinning shawl stilled in the air.

“You—how—WHO TOLD YOU?!”

She shrieked and spun in a frenzy, her hair whipping like a storm.

“You tricked me! You tricked me!” she screeched.

Then, with one final howl, she vanished in a puff of smoke and wind. Effie clutched her baby tight, laughing with joy. Bonnie the sow snorted happily in the pen, and finally, the sun broke through the clouds.

From that day forward, no one in the village ever made a promise without knowing the price. Even so, they all knew the tale of clever Effie and the fairy whose name was Whuppity Stoorie.